Married to a Muggle
by AiThe19
Summary: Lord Voldemort forces Severus Snape pledge himself in marriage to a Muggle woman to discredit his servant forever. But why would the Dark Lord have done such a thing? Who was the one the spymaster had to marry? Can the most feared Potions Master at Hogwarts possibly tolerate an Irishwoman with her world of science and logic totally different to his own?
1. Chapter 1

It was just another raid, similar to many others in which his master asked him to participate. Ever since he saw the first attack on Muggles orchestrated by the dark forces he was a fresh member of at that time, he had to learn to put on a mask of cruelty, of a merciless torturer. He might have enjoyed it at the beginning, because the anonymity of being a feared Death Eater, just one of many, the anonymity provided him with a false, lulling sense of power and security. Back then, he finally felt like he was being a part of something bigger than himself, that he was accepted and valued, in some distorted sense of that word, and that sense of belonging and power was perhaps the hook that kept him unyieldingly loyal for so long. But not anymore – or should he say, not for the past fifteen years?

Severus put on his Death Eater mask, an ornate piece of metal with mere slits for eyes and for breathing. Just the sight of the mask alone was what could bring wizards into fits of fear, and he knew he should still feel entitled and powerful while wearing it, but he just did not. Not anymore. Not after Lily showed him what it truly meant to be allied with the dark forces. Not after he himself lost someone very dear to him. For more than fifteen years, he could understand all the victims, all the surviving family members who lost their dear ones, all the wailing wives who lost their husbands, all the desperate friends who'll never see their mates anymore. Because now, he was one of them, one of the grieving many. Needless to remind himself that this must remain a secret forever hidden. _Lest I wish to forfeit my life_, he thought.

"Are you ready?" Lucius floated magnificently into the dressing room. No wonder for his graceful manner, this was his house after all – a manor, rather. Severus was frequently invited to stay there comfortably with all the other high-ranking Death Eaters, especially during the summer holidays. He guessed Narcissa wasn't fond of this practice, but there was nothing he could do – if the Dark Lord said 'stay', he would, and when he dismissed him, he would return to his shabby unwelcoming house in Cokeworth.

"Is it going to be just you, me and Mulciber then?" Severus asked indifferently, adjusting the mask to his face.

"I've come to understand Avery was invited too." Lucius said. Glancing at his watch, he said: "We should go."

"Remind me again why we're raiding Muggles, like sheep, instead of – _at least_ – Muggleborns?" Severus asked, his voice cold and impassionate.

"This family is very particular." Lucius said. "We understand that they are often in touch with a wizarding family – they're neighbours in fact – and before we kill those traitors, we are to kill the vermin. The Dark Lord's orders."

The four men quietly apparated a few feet from the building where the cruelties of the night were supposed to take place. The house was rather big and comfortably furnished, it seemed that the Muggles who lived there had no want of anything. They walked silently by the wall, no need to creep or hide themselves – the Muggles would be dead soon, there wasn't any danger they would run away, because the Death Eaters would catch up on them in no time, nor was there any salvation in hiding, not from the Death Eaters who were known never to leave a stone unturned. They spotted a man mowing the front lawn, whistling to himself. A barely audible ruffle of the bush behind him made him turn around, but at that moment, Severus' wand was already pointed at him. The husband was killed instantly. As his body thumped on the lawn he left half-mowed, a child's whimper was heard – a little child was spotted running upstairs calling for his mother. Severus gave a deep frown behind his mask. The only next thing he hated the most besides killing was killing mothers with their children. He always had to think of Lily when he stood before this task, and he always backed off and let the others do it. But husbands, he could stand killing – he didn't want to, if he didn't have to, but more often than not, he had to kill _someone_. The man couldn't even cry out as Snape's curse hit him, all the better for his wife and child, who were yet unsuspecting of their miserable fate. _If only we didn't have Avery with us_, Severus frowned, _he is rather fond of torturing women before he kills them, that jerk, and he always makes our raids last unbearably long because of that. _

"What's the matter, Ollie?" Said a soft female voice from upstairs. "Has the thunder scared ye again? Come here, poor darling, Mummy is going to make you something nice for dinner, okay?" No sooner had she finished her sentence before Avery's dragonhide boots creaked on the topmost stair, and deafening silence followed.

"Honey, is that you?" Called out the woman, anxiety apparent in her voice. Lucius and Snape quickly followed suit. Avery burst the door with a curse. The woman shrieked. She crouched over her toddler boy, anxious to protect him. The room was dimly lit with a nightstand lamp, and by the sight of it, Severus guessed it was a nursery. A lightning briefly illuminated the four masked intruders. She gave another shriek and wrapped herself around her son, who was wailing unconsolably.

"The only thing I hate the most are insufferable little crying brats." Barked Avery, and with a strong blow at the mother's head, he wrenched the boy away from her arms. Not minding the bleeding wound on her temple, she sprang to her feet, eager to retrieve her son: "Ollie, no!"

"Watch your prat die, bitch." Sneered Avery and no sooner could she cry "Please no! Not him!", a green light illuminated her scared face. Her child dropped to the ground, dead.

"Now you." Growled Mulciber and took a step forward. "Did you just want to take your prat back from my friend here, did ya?! You would fight him for it, would ya?!"

"No… Please…" She whispered, shaking her head, and was backing away from the four men.

"C'mon, let us have a little fun." Sneered Lucius, stepping forward and seizing her wrists, he tried to pin her towards the wall. Severus frowned again. Lucius, like all married Death Eaters (luckily, there wasn't that many of them) liked to enjoy occasional pleasures their raids provided – as did all the others, anyway. Himself, never. He only did what he was ordered to. If he was ordered to kill, he would kill. If he was ordered to kidnap, he would kidnap. He wouldn't do anything else besides what was asked of him.

She writhed, and kicked, and tried to free her hands so desperately that Lucius lost all the cool patience which otherwise dominated his magnificent persona and hit her head even harder than Avery. A new, even bloodier wound was opened, and she fell to the floor, motionless.

"Let's go." Said Avery coolly, "the vermin is dead." Severus smirked under his mask. It seemed that the sight of blood deterred even the lustiest of his fellow dark wizards from their detestable practices, if only for that night. The three other men stepped out of the nursery to ransack the house for any valuables they could pawn – not money, of course, neither Muggle electronic devices (there weren't many of them anyway), but gold and silver. Gold and silver was the only valuable commodity Muggles and wizards alike shared and valued – apart from valuable paintings and furniture, but the three buffoons wouldn't recognise a decent furniture even if it stood right before their face; Lucius was the only one with some taste, but he was guided more by the high price tags than by historical facts and evidence. Casting one last glance at the motionless mother on the floor, Severus stepped out of the nursery and shortly after disapparated back to the Malfoy Manor.

It was short to eleven when he began getting ready for bed. The evening was spent in merry reveries and celebrations of the Dark Lords eternal glory, activities which his master very much enjoyed, but Severus always counted the minutes when he'd be allowed to be on his own in the quiet guest room he currently occupied. But tonight, he didn't think of his luxuriously soft bed, nor of his new tomes and volumes, perched on the shelves and dressers, eagerly waiting to be read; he thought of the young woman from earlier, for he could swear he saw her chest move slightly when they were leaving. She was alive back then. Was she alive even now? _Unlikely_, he concluded, _she would have lost too much blood by now._ But she could be alive, theoretically. And no one knew of their little visit tonight. It would be long till someone found her in the nursery, and by then, she would surely be dead. _Why do I even care?_ He chastised himself. _She's a Muggle. She doesn't concern me._ _But maybe, just maybe, she does concern you?_ A little voice in the back in his head suggested. Severus had quarrelled with this little voice more frequently than he wished to admit, and for a black-humoured sport, he liked to call it his 'conscience'. _Maybe because you think of Lily when you see a mother defending her child, maybe you think that if someone stepped forth that fateful night, Lily could still be alive… Maybe someone like you, who saw her fall and after much pondering they didn't return to the Potter's house, even though it could save her life…_ He knew that saving someone after they've been hit with the Avada was impossible, that anyone returning to the house wouldn't make any difference at all, but just the mere thought of Lily lying abandoned and dead on the cold nursery floor, just the thought of rain soaking into her soft tight knitted jumper, rain falling through the raptured roof was enough to make his head spin. He hated it when he was thinking irrationally like that. He put his frock coat on again and sneaked out into the night to disapparate.

The farm house was exactly as they left it – the lamps were on, the doors were ajar, even the dead bodies of the husband and the child were still there. He swiftly walked up the stairs and kneeling down beside the woman in the nursery, his heart skipped a beat when he could feel the slightest of throbs of her pulse. The wound on her head must be attended to first. He quickly stopped the flow of blood and with a single skilled swish of his wand, he closed the wound. His hand reached inside his inner pocket for a blood replenishing potion. He usually saved the 'first-aid' potions for himself, but – _blast it!_ – if he didn't help her, who else would? Even if he sent a word to Albus, there wasn't any guarantee that Order members would be available to get here immediately, and he knew he had to act quickly.

He lifted the woman so that he could pour the potion into her slightly open mouth. Now that he took a closer look at her, she wasn't an ugly woman at all – she had a round, child-like face, rosy cheeks and long black hair. From earlier, he remembered her eyes were green, but they were a different shade than Lily's – rather greenish yellow, like a cat. A cow mooed from the outside – where were they, exactly? He didn't pay any attention to the surroundings of the house, maybe a small village somewhere in Scotland, perhaps? It would be long till any Muggle doctor could get there to help her. She would survive, for now, and later in the evening he would send a word to Albus to get her to a Muggle hospital. Her eyes twitched and she let out a shaky breath. Good. He laid her on the ground gently, and for an instant he considered Obliviating her – but then, he changed his mind. She deserved to know what happened that night. She deserved to know what happened to her child and husband, to make her peace with it, if it was even possible. It was strange, peculiar, he would have obliviated any other Muggle but this woman – why the deuce did he choose not to? What was the matter with him that night? Was he getting sentimental? _I'll send a word to Albus as soon as I get out of here, he can send someone here, or maybe call the Muggle aurors – how were they called? – police_, he thought, _and I'll just slip out without getting myself into trouble. She'll survive, that's sure. Maybe the aurors will obliviate her, maybe they'll heal her themselves, that's not my thing to decide_. He walked swiftly out of the nursery, and apparated back into the Manor.

Severus was always proud of his ability to move noiselessly through the shadows – it was one of his many traits which made him so feared amongst his students. His travelling cloak gave only a noiseless rustle as he sneaked through the garden from the apparition point towards the main door.

To his immense surprise, the Dark Lord himself was waiting for him in the entrance hall, his red eyes nothing more than angry slits.

"Where exactly have you been, Severus?" The Dark Lord asked.

"I was taking a stroll in the garden, my Lord. I needed to get some fresh air before going to bed." Severus lied, his face schooled into a stone-like expression and his voice as level as he could possibly make it sound.

"Fresh air, you say?" Voldemort said and twirled his wand in his hands as if it were a twig he found very interesting. "In the garden, you say? Now, that is peculiar, I was looking for you there, and couldn't find you. Do you wish to deceive me, Severus?"

Bellatrix appeared in the main dining hall door: "My Lord, we just wanted to– Oh, Snape, where have you been? We were looking for you everywhere!"

"In a minute, Bella." Voldemort dismissed the witch with a lazy wave of his hand. And then, in the next second, Severus' mind was invaded. Oddly enough, he managed to put his mental shields up against everything he always shielded, except for his trip to that farmhouse from which he had just returned – perhaps it was too fresh a memory to be able to shield? Voldemort's thin lips frowned in disgust.

"Helping the vermin, are we, Severus?" He whispered, ice in his voice. Severus closed his eyes in expectation of the Cruciatus.

"Helping who, my Lord?" Asked Bellatrix, still standing in the main hall door. _I'll blast that nosey bitch's ass off one day._

"I sent your brother-in-law, Severus and some other loyal followers on another of their many raids on Muggles this evening, and would you expect it, Bella, Severus returned to help the female Muggle who miraculously survived," Voldemort whispered, his frown was now the deadliest smirk Severus has ever seen.

"He didn't!" Yelled Bellatrix and wrinkled her nose as if she smelled something dreadful. "They're vermin, my Lord, why would any of the rabble deserve to live?"

"I'm asking myself the very question, Bella, what prompted Severus to return… When he knew I'd be greatly displeased if I discover what he did…"

"If he cares about this Muggle cow so much, why doesn't he marry her?" Sneered Bella and broke into a fit of giggly laughter which gave Severus goosebumps. _Not only is she nosey, she's insane. I hope he won't listen to-_

"Actually, that's quite a nice idea, Bella." Voldemort said, the most hideous of grins spreading across his face. "Lucius, Mulciber, bring the female here, the one that you failed to kill – we've found Severus an excellent match." The door to the dining hall was now open and everyone was listening. Then as soon as Voldemort finished speaking, everyone broke into derisive laughter.

"Here, my Lord?" Asked Narcissa, her nose now wrinkled in disgust equal to her sister's.

"Yes, Narcissa, here." Voldemort said and his red eyes gleamed with victory. "First I wanted to kill you, Severus Snape. But Bellatrix set me up at something even better."

The next second, Malfoy and Mulciber returned, dragging the still unconscious Muggle woman behind them like a bag full of cat litter. The threw her carelessly at the marble stones of the entrance hall. Voldemort kicked her into her ribs.

"Someone revive her."

With a girl-like glee, Bellatrix pointed her wand at the Muggle.

"Rennervate!"

Her green eyes opened and she looked around in confusion.

"I feel dizzy." She whispered and propped herself on her hands so that she could sit on the ground and she looked around in confusion. "What is this place? Who are you?"

"No questions." Snapped Lucius, who stood nearest.

"Your lucky day has come, Muggle. You are to be married to my most loyal follower." Voldemort grinned and Severus knew that it all was an absurd joke to them – yet, he didn't for an instant doubt that the Dark Lord meant what he said. He knew he was doomed, but what could he do? So he just stood there, glowering at the woman. _The best idea I've ever had, truly. What is wrong with me tonight?!_

"But I'm already married." Said the woman weakly.

"Your husband is dead." Voldemort grinned viciously. "Give me your hand."

The poor Muggle woman must have been scared to her wits, because – strangely enough – she obeyed.

"Severus." He said. Unwillingly, Snape stretched his hand towards his master. Bellatrix howled with laughter. Murmuring something they couldn't hear clearly, Voldemort performed a strange, complicated spell. Two snakes erupted from the tip of his wand and forcing their hands together, the two snakes joined into one. For a split second, Severus looked into her eyes – her wild, greenish yellow eyes. They were big, scared, full of fear. She held onto his hand tight as if she hoped he would save her from what she believed to be a terrible nightmare. Severus lowered his eyes. _There is no salvation for you. For me, neither._

Everyone broke into a derisive laughter. The questioning eyes of the Muggle woman dwelled for a second on one Death Eater after another – for help, for explanation? – but the ritual was finished.

"Now, Severus," Voldemort said and spread out his arms as to welcome the newlyweds in a mocking hug, "why don't you take your newly wedded wife to your own house? It would surely be inappropriate if you consummated your first night here."

Narcissa staggered and was obviously on the verge of throwing up. Without even a word, Severus clasped the hand of the Muggle and tugged her behind him, without even looking back. When she staggered and fell to the ground, he turned around, bowing: "My Lord."

"You're dismissed, my dear Severus." Voldemort said, a vile snigger spread across his lipless mouth.

Without looking at anyone else, Snape flicked his wand, the feeble body of the Muggle woman rose into the air. Then they disapparated.

The door was burst open with such force that one of the window panels broke. But he paid no attention to that. He sent the motionless woman floating upstairs into the guest room and he himself stayed in the living room, breaking and throwing everything he could lay his hands on.

Blasted Muggles!

He needed to put the blame on someone. He knew he had done the most terrible mistake in his life, he had possibly ruined his reputation as Voldemort's spy – he would have to see about that later – but now he felt stupid and foolish. His insides raged, he felt as angry as he had never felt before, all he wanted was to do something terrible to her, to the motionless body upstairs, because – after all – it was all her fault, wasn't it?

Knowing he couldn't control his temper when he would next see her, he stuck his head into the fireplace: "I need a word, Albus."

Despite being called upon in the middle of the night, Albus Dumbledore never lost his good spirits – neither did he lose his lavish way of dressing up. Having reached Severus' house in a pink-golden robe and a matching hat, Albus acted as if Severus calling him at two at night was the best thing that happened to him all week. After offering the distressed man a sherbet lemon – which was angrily tossed into the fireplace – and a tumbler of Firewhiskey – which Snape drunk in one gulp – he seated himself casually into one of the worn-out leather chairs and patiently listened to the whole story.

"Most unusual." Said Dumbledore, rubbing his long beard pensively. "Truly unusual."

"Unusual? Unusual, Dumbledore? Unusual is the word you would use to describe this mess?! I might as well have lost my credibility – the entirety of it – tonight."

"On the contrary, my dear Severus." Dumbledore said with a soft smile. "I believe this is rather a test."

"A test?!" Snape spat angrily.

"Yes. As one of his most trusted followers, Tom Riddle would be sorry to see you go – so he devised a strategem which half intends to humiliate you and half aims at your loyalty."

"I still don't understand, Dumbledore." The younger man growled impatiently.

"You see, Muggles are something distasteful for Tom Riddle. They are a total opposite to what he thinks himself to be. Not only does he see them as lower creatures due to their lack of magic, he also partially fears them because their world is so different from his own."

"He fears them?" Snape gasped in disbelief.

"Yes. You see – when Tom Riddle was at his mightiest, more than fifteen years ago, the world of ordinary people was way different from the way it was a year ago when he returned back to full power. In just fifteen years, the Muggles have made so much progress that I believe he started to fear them a little, or rather, a dangerous thought crossed his mind that Muggles could one day invent something superior to magic, a powerful weapon which could wipe all wizards – especially him – out of existence, or which could possibly strip us of our powers. A pretty exaggerated idea, I would say. Nevertheless, I have come to understand that his plan is along the lines of 'get them before they get you', and is, of course, fuelled with his loathing for the absence of magical powers in Muggles. An elephant fearing a mouse at times."

Despite still feeling angry, a brief smile crossed Severus' face.

"You still haven't answered my question about the Dark Lord's wishes to humiliate me and test my loyalty."

"I believe the humiliating part is quite clear – he believes that associating you with 'vermin' as he terms Muggles will discredit you forever in the eyes of all wizardkind and that you will be tied to him even more for the sole purpose of securing your existence – another way Tom Riddle exploits people's interests."

"Where does my loyalty stand in all this then?"

"As I had already told you," Dumbledore continued calmly, "I believe this was designed as a test for you. Tom wants to see how much you can endure. If you come crawling to him, begging him for the safety he can provide, you'll be worse than Peter Pettigrew. If you can get over it, if you can walk with your head high and still be as efficient as before, Tom will see that nothing can break you – even something he himself would consider worse than death, that is, associating with Muggles – he will see that you are, in fact, his greatest servant of all because you can endure the hardest trials your master can put you through. Serving a sentence in Azkaban for him will look like nothing next to you."

"So I'm supposed to act as if nothing happened?" Snape spat angrily, loathing and self-pity building up in his veins again.

"Precisely." Said Dumbledore with a smile and put down the one and only tumbler of whiskey he himself finished, generously overlooking the fact that his distressed colleague had replenished the entire bottle.

"Now, where is Mrs. Snape?" Asked the old man jovially. Severus, gritting his teeth in fury and doing his best in restraining himself from hexing the Headmaster out of his wits, pointed towards the concealed entrance leading to the stairs to the second floor.

Dumbledore opened the secret door and walked upstairs. Sulking in the armchair, Snape was soon seduced by curiosity and went up the stairs too. Entering the guest room, he saw the Headmaster bending over the motionless figure on the bed.

"Quite badly injured," whispered Dumbledore and the tips of his long fingers softly touched her temple, "but you've done a marvellous job closing the wound, I wouldn't have done it better myself."

"Do you think this will be enough?" Asked Snape, pretty much against his will.

"Blimey, one might think you are concerned, Severus." Dumbledore said, smiling, and a spark glistened in his eye.

"All I'm saying is that should she die tonight, the Dark Lord might think I killed her out of spite."

"Quite true." Agreed Dumbledore, and put the tip of his wand to her head. "Just a couple more healing spells and she'll be ready in no time… Give me a minute, if you will."

"Don't call her Mrs. Snape." Said Severus, leaning against the wall of the hallway, avoiding any eye contact with the guestroom doorway.

"Then how shall I call her?" Came Dumbledore's patient voice.

"Ask the bloody woman herself what her name is." Growled Snape.

"Rennervate." He heard Dumbledore whisper. A few seconds later, Severus heard the old man gasp: "Dear Merlin, Mary!"

"Albus Dumbledore!" Came another gasp, a female's voice this time.

_Oh, bite me…_


	2. Chapter 2

"Blimey, Mary, I would never have thought that the Muggle woman could possibly be you!" Albus said, shaking hands cordially with the young woman who was sitting on the bed, looking slightly confused and greatly dishevelled.

"You've suffered some minor injuries, my dear, but don't worry, you'll be back on your feet soon enough. Well, what a coincidence! Anyway, my dear, I've idled here long enough, time to go." Said Dumbledore, patting her shoulder rather affectionately, and walked briskly out of the room.

Snape straightened his back, his face bearing a mask of indifference as he stormed into the room, his cloak billowing after him. He loomed over the Muggle woman, who was pulling the covers gingerly up to her chin, like a giant black vulture. Her eyes were big and frightened.

"Muggle." He snapped. "I am going to ask you questions, you will answer to your best ability. If not, I will make you. Do you understand?"

"Y-Yes, sir." She whispered, her voice shaking with fear.

"How do you know Albus Dumbledore, Muggle?"

"H-He's a good friend of me p-parents, sir."

Severus silently noted that she had a very strong Irish accent.

"Don't you savages know how to talk properly?" He snarled dangerously and the woman recoiled into the corner of the bed.

"What would a wizard like him be friendly with Muggles? Answer me." He shook her shoulders impatiently.

"M-Me parents are wizards too, sir." She peeped, tears welling up in her eyes.

"What?!" Snape barked.

"I-I'm a Squib, sir." The woman whispered, a silent stray tear falling down her cheek.

"Of course." Growled Snape and hit the wardrobe, the only other furniture in the otherwise empty room, with a silent Reducto. Gods, he felt frustrated! He turned back to her again, the poor woman was crouching in the corner of the bed like a stray kitten, shaking from head to toe.

"P-Please, sir- D-Don't kill me, please…" She begged him, whispering.

"I don't have the smallest intention to kill you." He barked at her angrily. "Sit up!"

She immediately obeyed, still pulling the covers to her chin as if her life depended on it.

"Professor Dumbledore fixed your injuries." Snape said coldly. "Can you stand, or do I have to pull you out of the bed myself?"

She immediately scooted out of the covers, swaying slightly as he stood up. Grasping her forearm unceremoniously, Snape pulled her after him downstairs. He left her standing by the fireplace, where a fire still licked some remaining logs of wood, he himself walked a few steps into the living room to have a better look at her. She was truly a pitiful sight: her hair was messy, her dress was filthy, stained with dirt and blood. Only her eyes, her eyes shone in her face like the eyes of a stray cat, and he didn't doubt those strong and defiant eyes wanted to shred him to pieces. There was a fire inside her, a fire neither the Dark Lord nor him could ever put out. And yet, despite her wild eyes, she stood there humbly with her head bowed low and her hands nervously tugging at her dress.

"Sir… What is this house? And why was professor Dumbledore here, sir?"

"Rule one," he growled dangerously and casted her a piercing look of disdain, "no questions."

"But sir-"

"Can you hold your tongue, or do I have to make you?" He pointed his wand at her. She jerked and recoiled by the sight of the long ornate black piece of wood.

"Do you know why you are here, squib?" He asked her coldly. She shook her head, those defiant burning eyes still pinned at him.

"You're here because the Dark Lord was as generous as to spare your little miserable life. You're here because he gave you to me, as a reward for my services. You're mine to deal with as I see fit. There's no one who would take pity on you, no one who would save you from me. Do you understand that?"

Those eyes, they burned like devil's eyes. He half expected her to turn into a black puma and snap his throat in half. Slowly, and with a great effort to hold the tears welling up in her eyes, she nodded.

"If we have that bit straight, I would be very interested in what you remember from today." He drawled, not taking his black eyes off her. She shook her head: "I won't tell."

"'You won't tell', eh?" Said Snape, his corners twitching into a sneer. Then he pointed his wand at her.

"Legillimens."

She stumbled backwards, almost falling into the fireplace. Tears were noiselessly dripping from her chin.

"Do you know what happened tonight, squib?" Snape asked, his cold-hearted voice stinging like ice.

"T-They killed me- me son." She sobbed, hiding her face in her hands.

"No, not they, squib. _We_. _We_ killed your husband and child." She looked up to him and for a brief moment, he was holding a silver mask in his hand. The next second, he turned his hand around and it was gone.

"What do you want from me?" She whispered, her voice soaked up with resentment and despair.

"You will remain here, in this house. Going outside? Forget it. Contacting your family? You try it and see what happens to you. Now off with you, I can't bear looking at you any longer. Go to the bathroom and burn the dress."

She jumped to her feet and ran upstairs, slamming the door of the bathroom behind her.

Snape sunk into one of the leather armchairs and pinched the root of his nose in exasperation. After steadying his shaky breath, he called softly: "Gammel."

A wrinkled house-elf appeared on the rug and bowed so low that his crooked nose hit the fabric on the ground.

"Bring some dresses, slippers, nightgowns and female toiletries."

"Yes, master." Gammel croaked and disappeared. Two minutes later, the elf was back. Having been instructed to put them into the guest room, the elf obeyed and then disappeared. The hum of the shower stopped. He heard the door of the guest room close. He waited several more minutes and then walked upstairs. He knocked on the door and without waiting for her prompt, he opened the door and entered.

The woman stood in the middle of the guest room dressed in the blue nightgown the elf provided, water dripping from her long black hair.

"Sit." He said, and seated himself on the bedcovers. She did as he told her to, sitting at the other end of the bed.

"I've sent an elf to bring some things you might need to use." Snape drawled, his dark eyes scanning her face for reply. She just nodded. "You are familiar with house-elves, I presume?"

"Not really, sir." She mumbled.

"Well, then prepare for a little start when he stocks up the pantry in the morning. You'll have all the food you need. He will come every two days to check on you and to bring you some more, you can ask him for anything you would need, but don't think he'll help you out of here. House-elves from Hogwarts take commands from teachers _only_." He stressed the last word, his silky drawl demanding her undivided attention.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Are you- Are you also a teacher at Hogwarts, sir?"

"Indeed. Why do you ask?" His onyx eyes narrowed in suspicion of something fishy to come.

"Does professor Dumbledore know that you are a Death Eater, sir?" She asked, her voice sounding puzzled and confused. Despite his previous efforts not to show any emotion of any kind, he let out a barking laugh. "Why do you think he wouldn't know, foolish girl? On the contrary, he thinks I'm his loyal spy amongst the Dark Lord's most ardent followers."

"Is- Is this house yours, sir?"

"I thought I've made myself clear in that you are not to ask questions?"

She lowered her eyes again, fidgeting with the hem of her nightdress. He rose from the bed and straightened his frock coat.

"I'll stop by in few days to check on you. Do not leave the house, do not answer the door, do not try anything foolish. Understand?"

She nodded. Walking out of the guest room, he turned around in the doorway: "What's your name?"

"Mary Conneely." Said the woman sheepishly.

"Well, Mary," Snape drawled and the corners of his mouth twitched into a sarcastic grin: "Not anymore. Last night, the Dark Lord married you to me."

She gasped and her green-yellow eyes widened to the size of kitchen plates: "You can't be serious, sir!"

"Quite the opposite." He pulled a simple gold ring and stuffing it unceremoniously onto her finger, he gave her another smirk: "This is connected to the outer wards of the house. You do anything funny, and I'll know about it as soon as your toe crosses the threshold." He showed her another, bigger ring, which he stuffed back into his pocket. "Don't try to fling it into the fire, once it sticks to your finger, only I can take it off."

She stared at her finger in disbelief as if a ring was something she saw for the first time.

"I'll leave you to your mental assets now." He sneered at her again and closed the door behind him. In a split second, she opened it again, stopping just two feet from him. He could now tell that she was about two heads shorter to him – a small detail he didn't notice until now – she was truly very small, he noted.

"I'd like to ask one request of you." She said, her voice soft and hollow.

"Out with it." He prompted her unceremoniously.

"The bodies of me husband– ex-husband," she corrected herself hastily, "and son are still there. Might you have the kindness to dispose of them with dignity, seeing that I cannot attend to them myself?"

Wild yellow eyes met black ones. There was a shadow in his eyes, something deep and mysterious she couldn't understand moving there – something she hadn't seen before.

"Consider it done." He said curtly, turned on his heel and walked downstairs, leaving her standing in the doorway.


	3. Chapter 3

Severus Snape sat at his office desk at Hogwarts and was currently busy with writing syllabi for the next year. _That blasted fool of a Headmaster always wants them from me, although he bloody well knows I hate writing them and never adhere to them anyway…_

_With_ a silent pop, the castle elf Gammel appeared on his rug.

"Miss is not eat. Miss sleeps only, or cries. Gammel sometimes hears when Gammel is to check on Miss and Gammel hears Miss is cries. Miss is not eat or come out of her room."

Severus sighed and put his quill down.

"Unless she doesn't leave the house, she is free to do what she pleases."

The elf was looking at him, expecting his next instruction.

"Gammel does not know what Gammel is to do."

"Just leave her where she is." Snape waved his hand dismissively. When the elf bowed and disappeared, he pulled a new sheet of parchment from his drawer and after a brief hesitation, he started writing.

A quiet tap interrupted her sobs. As she rose from the bed, her face wet, swollen and red, she saw a small owl with a letter strapped to its leg. Surprised, Mary Snape opened the window so that the owl could land on the dresser, took the letter from it, uncertain as what to do next, but the owl rose to the air and flew out of the window as if nothing unusual happened.

_A letter- for me? From who?_

She unrolled the parchment and started reading.

**_Mary_**

**_The house-elf tells me you don't leave your room. What's your cause? If I wanted you to be a prisoner in my house, I would have chained you to your bed. _**

Mary rolled her eyes.

_Ha! How kind._

**_It doesn't do to dwell on past sorrows, moreover, idleness doesn't suit you. _**

"How rude!" She cried out and stared at the parchment in disbelief, thinking she might have overlooked something in the text, that she might have misunderstood the words. She blinked. No, the letter said exactly what it said.

**_In the living room there are books you may read, just stay away from the bookcase nearest the concealed door, these would put funny ideas in your head. I would also suggest you could try to make the house more hospitable-_**

"Ha, so he does want to work me like a slave in this filthy place!" She mumbled indignantly.

**_-because I might visit you soon. There is also a small garden in the backyard where you might gain access if you prove yourself worthy of it-_**

"That– selfish– big-headed– PRICK!" She cried, and with each word she tore the letter in half, not even finishing reading it, and stomped at the torn pieces angrily, having thrown them on the floor. Fuming furiously, she stormed into the hallway and down the stairs. She stopped before the fireplace, knowing that wizards used it to come and go from the house, and she stuck her head into the chimney, screaming: "Sod off!"

As all wizards know, sticking your head into a fireplace and screaming at the top of your lungs has no effect whatsoever, but poor Mary didn't know that. Yet, even more oddly, the Snape household fireplace apparently felt the need to carry this message through, because in the Hogwarts castle, still hunched over his syllabi, Severus Snape could hear a distant 'Sod off!' coming from his ornate marble fireplace. He chuckled darkly, and strangely enough, his mood was a little better that day.

"This house is a goddamn fecking menace, I don't know what that prick was thinking when he brought me here, that cold-hearted damned git…" Mary Snape was grumbling angrily as she was mopping the floor, yet, she was feeling much better by having something to do. By the afternoon, she had mopped all the floors, by the evening, she was finished scrubbing the kitchen.

"That fecking son of a bitch and his fecking house full of dirt which must have witnessed his first days on Earth as a lad, I don't know how goddamned long was this sodding house left to rot like this…" Growled Mary as she was standing on a chair and wiping off the top of the upper counters, shaking off countless spider webs and dead flies. Next, she wanted to clean the pots and pans, but as she opened the cupboard door, she shrieked at the top of her lungs and turned her bucket with the dirty soap water over, stumbling over it and falling right into the puddle of the coal-black dirty water.

"That's IT! I'm DONE!" Shrieked Mary and threw her apron angrily into the giant black puddle, her dress having suffered a large black wet stain on her bottom. "This is not a HOUSE, this is a PIGSTY!"

"I'm so glad you're having fun." She heard a silky deep drawl from the fireplace. Shocked, Mary wheeled around, her bare foot slipping on the wet floor and she landed in the dirty water again. Letting out a deep, dark chuckle, her new husband walked over to her, extending out his arm to help her stand. Glad, and surprised, she took it. Casting her one last crooked smile, he flicked his wand and the large puddle disappeared, leaving the floor spotless clean as it had been before. Turning around, Mary found that her dress was as clean as it could be.

"The elf tells me that you can easily surpass a grubby guttersnipe in swearing." Snape said, his voice bubbly with amusement. Mary folded her arms on her chest, her ears guiltily turning red. "He is actually quite afraid of you."

"I didn't mean to scare him." She mumbled sheepishly and fiddled her skirt, unsure of what to do.

"Can you explain the reason for your sharp tongue?" He prompted her, but the tone of his voice was warm, not menacing.

She flung her arms around: "This house's a mess! Lord love you, why didn't you clean it – especially when you have it as easy as this?" She pointed to the wand he was still holding.

"An interesting question – why don't we discuss it over a cup of tea?"

"Oh – sure." She wheeled around to fix them two cups, but there was another deep, throaty laugh, and the kettle started boiling on its own. Seeing the steam literally coming from his wife's ears, Snape gave a good-hearted, barking laugh.

"See?" She pointed to the kettle, jumped up slightly and her long hair almost stood up on her head. "You don't need me. You can do everything yourself. So why keep me here–"

"You're good to be with." He said, casting her a half smile.

"Are you trying to win me over?" She cried, her voice rising up an octave.

"Not at all." He said, his voice back to his usual levelled deep growl. "Sit." The armchairs huddled around a coffee table where there were two delicate steaming china cups.

"Besides, I swear too much when I'm cleaning." She mumbled sheepishly, her cheeks crimson.

"I assure you, your incessant cascade of filthy words kept me greatly entertained all day." He smirked at her and sipped his tea.

"You-You can hear what I'm saying in here?" She gasped.

"Only if I want to." He gave her a crooked smile. He was playing with her, but Gods, how amusing she was to play with, he didn't feel this cheeky for years!

"I will hold my tongue then." She mumbled, her whole face burning red.

"Please don't." He chuckled again. Then he looked at her. "What scared you so much earlier?"

"There's cúpla lucha marbha in the press." She blurted.

"Pardon me?"

"There's a couple of dead mice in the cupboard." She said, her ears turning beetroot red.

"I'll tell Gammal to dispose of all dead mice around here."

"Why have you not cleaned this place more?" She asked, taking care to pass the word 'all' in his sentence.

"This was a house of my parents, a house where I spent an unhappy childhood and even more gruesome teenage years. I hated it, and after my parents' death, I never did much to take care of it."

"It must have been uncomfortable for you to stay here during summer holidays." She said.

"I never stayed much. I always made sure to stay at the school or with friends to avoid this place."

"But isn't it a pity? It could be such a nice house if only it looked a bit better." She suggested shyly and nibbled at the biscuit.

"If you endeavoured to make it better, I could stay more." He mumbled, not even looking at her, and took another sip of his tea.

"I've nothing better to do anyway." Said she and blushed. Strangely enough, the idea of him staying more wasn't completely averse to her liking. In the morning, it certainly would have been, but not now.

"Did you take a look at the books around here?"

"At some, and I didn't understand them." She admitted, blushing even more.

"True. I didn't think of that." He said, shifting uncomfortably. Of course, as a squib and with no wizarding knowledge whatsoever, she wouldn't understand a single thing.

"How much do you know about the wizarding world, anyway?" He asked, his dark eyes seeping into the yellow-green ones.

"Uhm, me parents are wizards, and me sisters too, and I was always so excited when we took them to London for the train, and they told me how Hogwarts was like, but that's so long ago I wouldn't remember it now, even if I tried."

_Maybe I'll take you there one day_, thought Severus, but then the harsh reality came back to him. _She is your hostage, not your guest. She's here to humiliate you, not for you to take her on trips._

"And I'm kind of used to getting owls, and to broomsticks and wands too, but not much beyond the sight of them, anyway." She admitted nervously.

"Have you tried doing some magic yourself?"

"I once stole me mum's wand when she wasn't looking," Mary mumbled guiltily, "I took it into me garden shed to see if I could be a witch too. But nothing happened, and I got a beating." She put her chin on her knees pensively, and then she looked at her husband with interest.

"Do you hate Muggles?"

Severus looked into the fire. There it was. Crossroads between who he really was and who he needed to be to keep face. Shall he lie? She would be afraid of him forever. If he told her he hated Muggles, she would have expected the same treatment as she got from the ones who really did hate Muggles. Again, this strange voice in him won. _Tell her. Tell her how you really feel. Who could she possibly tell? It's not like she can leave this house anyway. _It was the same voice which told him to return that fateful night when he received his punishment. He was really about to start hating this voice.

"No." He said softly.

"I see." She said.

He put the cup on the table and rose from the armchair.

"I should go." He said sternly.

"Alright." She said, avoiding eye contact.

"Try not to knock down the house while I'm gone." He smirked at her. She wasn't sure if that was a sneer or an actual smile.

"Will you…" She blurted out, fidgeting with her skirt again. "Will you stop by again?"

"I will." He said, stepping into the fireplace.

"Uhm, I–" She peeped and twisted her skirt as she watched him disappear. "I don't even know your name."

"Didn't you read my letter?" Came his voice from the distance.

"I didn't finish it. I tore it to pieces." She admitted, her ears beetrooty again.

Then, a small piece of parchment flashed from the fireplace. Calming her racing heart, she picked it up. It was a green namecard made of expensive parchment with slanted, elegant silver handwriting on it.

**_Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_**


	4. Chapter 4

_By a lonely prison wall, _

_I heard a young girl calling _

_'__Michael they have taken you away,_

_For you stole Trevelyn's corn_

_So the young might see the morn,_

_Now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay…_

"You called me, my Lord?" Severus Snape's dark eyes met his master's face as he was kneeling on the floor.

"Severus. Strange illness is spreading through wizardkind. Perhaps you've already heard of it?"

"I have not, my Lord?" The Death Eater replied.

"The victims, I've been told, have difficulty breathing and are feverish."

"Is it lethal, my Lord?"

"So far, it has been fatal to one wizard out of three. Three!" Voldemort snapped and Nagini hissed dangerously. Half the table of Death Eaters, who had been quietly witnessing their exchange, recoiled.

"Worst of all," Voldemort added, his tone curt and irritated, "it has been affecting mainly pureblood wizards."

"Pureblood wizards, my Lord?" Said Lucius, startled.

"Yes, my dear friend," Voldemort hissed and leaned on Lucius' backseat (the blonde man jerked as the ornate chair creaked) "it is a plague, affecting the ones who should thrive, leaving the ones we seek to exterminate intact."

"Maybe it is a curse, my Lord?" Lucius suggested weakly. "Maybe a Muggle-born casted it to get back on us? Surely, everyone knows that your ranks, my Lord, are as full of pureblood wizards as Dumbledore's are of rabble and vermin." Lucius suggested again.

Bellatrix cackled.

"Are you actually suggesting, my dear brother-in-law, that riffraff would be capable of casting such a spell?"

"Severus," Voldemort hissed and everybody fell quiet, "you will investigate with Dumbledore whether his ranks are as affected as ours – whether his pureblood supporters – the bloodtraitors, I mean – are falling prey to this mysterious curse as we are. Because if not," Voldemort's eyes weren't more than angry slits, "someone from the other side must have cast that spell."

"This goddamned den of a house deserves nothing more than to be burned to ashes, dear me!" The next days, Mary busied herself with cleaning the bedrooms, the bathroom and a strange room adjacent the kitchen which she presumed was some kind of laboratory. That was the worst to clean. She found old flasks and retorts full of dried coloured liquids, and not many of them would let the dye go easily.

"You, elf!" She called into nothingness. She had never actually seen the creature, she just always found the food in the pantry and new clothes on the bed, so she actually shrieked when the little, shabby elf appeared in front of her.

"What's your name?" She asked.

"Gammel, Madame." He croaked. "But Gammel cans't get orders from Madame, Master said. Master punish Gammel if Gammel receive orders."

"That 'Master', is it my husband?" She folded her arms on her chest. The elf nodded.

"Then he would like what I'm about to ask you. I need help cleaning his laboratory."

"Gammel helps with cleaning."

"I would also like some yarn and needles."

"Master say if Madame wants something Madame writes Master a letter."

"I need writing supplies then."

"Master say if Madame wants something Madame writes Master a letter."

"Jaysus, Mary and Joseph…" She sighed. The elf casted her a puzzled look and hobbled into the laboratory to clean it. She looked at her finger. There it was, a shiny gold circle, glittering in the light of the fire. Out of curiosity, she tried tugging at it. No luck, the ring sat stuck on her finger as if it were glued to it. She tried wiggling it to make it work somehow, then she tried touching it and thinking hard on what she wanted to relay to her husband, then she tried screaming at it, nothing helped. She huffed in exasperation and the flames in the fireplace turned green.

"Arah begorrah!" She screeched. A hooded figure stepped out of the fire.

"Mary, lil' one, don't you recognise me?" Said a tall, blonde man with crisp, blue eyes. Eyes which sparkled in the dark. Wicked, calculating crystals of ice.

"Connor…" She breathed out and stumbled back. "I didn't- I can't-"

"Yer new life suits you well? Ye get pampered enough here?" The wizard said, pulled out his wand, and advanced into the living room. The black-haired woman was backing down and down into the kitchen.

"N-No, it's not as it seems- I had to- You weren't there, you don't know how it all came to be!" She defended herself, looking frantically around for something, anything, anywhere she could hide. Her heart was beating like crazy. She knew who he was. Connor O'Brien. Their neighbor. A wizard. Her dead husband's best friend. And what they all suspected, but never knew for sure, a Death Eater.

"I really expected more of you, Mary." The man said, his face distorted with contempt, and spat at her feet. "Michael was my friend, Mary. You both were. Then, what do I find out, that he had been killed, your little boy too, and you missing. And the next thing I know, my friends are whispering about you and Snape."\

"And it's nice friends that you have, Lord above!" Mary said and crossed her hands on her chest on the summer floral dress she wore.

"You tell me," Connor started pacing to and fro, his face distorted into a vile grin, "you're a whore to the best in our ranks."

"So ye won't even deny yer a part of a gang of murderers?" Mary accused him, still standing with her hands folded, her long velvet hair cascading down her back like a black silk waterfall.

"Did ye plan the whole thing?" Connor spat, his eyes bulging out dangerously. "Michael was only a farmer, you are a certified nurse. Yer folk was always better than our folk, ye've ever always made that perfectly clear. Did ye get tired of the poverty? Did ye get tired of the cow dung yer life had been, Mary?" His wand was now pointed directly into her face.

"Good Lord, don't ye take that tone with me!" She yelled, despite being the one in huge disadvantage in the whole situation. "I loved Michael, ye knew that! I love him still, it was not my decision to be here, I figured that yer friends would tell ye as much."

"Ye berated me all the time for me beliefs and me actions. Ye gave me hell of a time about me looking up to the Dark Lord's ideas," Connor growled, his wand still pointing in her face, "But look at ye now, little whore, so happy about her new Death Eater husband, so eager to fulfill every damned wish of that jerk. Michael was too unimportant for ye, wasn't he? Snape has power, and he has copper, too. Loads of it. This house must look thousand times better to ye to that country pigsty, as ye sure call it now—"

"Shut yer filthy gob, yer sick bastard!" Shrieked Mary and advanced at him with her cat eyes flashing dangerously and her hair bristled. "Don't ye say a word more of me dead husband—"

"Don't raise yer voice at me, lil' one." Barked the unscrupulous visitor and lifted her chin up with the tip of his wand. The tip hissed dangerously. She closed her eyes.

"Kill me then." She said, her voice low. "Kill me, show yer master how faithful is his servant, get rid of a filthy squib for them, make this world a better place, end that piece of shit that I am—"

"Happy to." Snickered the visitor, and as he took in a deep breath, Mary closed her eyes.

_Michael, I'll see ye soon... Wait for me..._

But suddenly, his wand flew up and clattered into the corner of the living room.

"I hardly think so." Said another voice, a viciously deep growl. Mary's eyes shot wide open and she turned to see her new husband standing before the fireplace. She gasped and shuddered, backing down even more.

"O'Brien, I hardly think I asked you to pay me a visit." Growled Snape and strode effortlessly towards the visitor, who seemed to shrink in size slightly.

"I wasn't visiting you." Sneered the man. "I was just having a lovely little chat with yer _wife_." The last word was uttered with such disgust as if the mere thought of that concept would make him throw up.

"I wasn't aware you knew her." Said Snape crisply.

"Knew her! Fuck sake, we used to be best friends." The visitor cried.

"Language." Drawled Snape, then he tucked his wand casually into his sleeve and strode towards the man and the woman by the kitchen door. "What was the purpose of your visit? I won't be convinced you came to wish your friend happiness in her new marriage." He sneered.

"Hardly so." His opponent flicked some stray blonde hair from his sweaty face and glared at Mary with all the spite and disgust he could muster.

"Am I right you came to rescue your friend?" Snape asked casually, but the undertone of his voice was dangerous.

"N-No, please…" Mary gasped, her eyes wide open in shock, holding her hands in front of her in a gesture of denial.

"As if I would rescue this piece of dirt." Sneered the visitor and spat at Mary's feet. "She has all she's wanted, obviously." He threw another glare at Snape: "And you too."

"No…" Mary whispered, barely audibly, and silent tears found their way into her eyes.

"Will you show yourself out, or do I have to show you where the door is with my wand?" Snape growled dangerously, irritation in his voice obviously reaching a peak.

"I'll manage." Connor snarled, threw his travelling cloak over his shoulder and stalked to the fireplace. For the last time, he looked at Mary Snape, and said: "I wish you were dead."

With these words, the green flames swallowed his figure and he was gone. Heavy silence fell upon the room.

"I-I'll go make some tea." Mary said softly, her voice heavily shaking as if she were furiously fighting back a desperate need to cry.

"I'll have it ready in no time." Her husband said, his voice void of any emotion and pulled out his wand.

"No, please," Mary said hastily, "allow me. I need to calm me hands."

He nodded curtly, and as she walked slowly to the kitchen, he rubbed the upper part of his prominent nose in exasperation. Meanwhile, as she was getting the cups ready and the water was boiling in the kettle, silent tears were dripping into the sink.

"I don't- I don't know how much longer I'll be able to hold," she whispered, leaning her forehead on the upper cupboard, her voice croaky and broken. She didn't even know to whom she was talking, perhaps the physical distance between herself and her husband gave her some comfort. "Every day, every minute of me life I'm thinking about Michael, and me little Ollie, and every minute of me life I'm blaming myself for being here when they are not, and every minute of me life I wish I were dead, I wish I were with them, and every minute of me life I wish I could end me life, right there and right then, only then I'm always reminded that they died so that I could live, in a strange way…" She closed her eyes, let out a shaky breath, and quiet sobs began to shake her shoulders. "Every minute of me life I think about the things I wanted to tell them but didn't, every minute of me life I think how different would all of it be if I had been downstairs with Michael and Ollie that night, every minute of me life I blame myself for their deaths… I'm trying to make these thoughts go away with work during the day, but they creep on me during the night and then, then I don't know what to do…"

"You are incredibly strong, Mary." Her husband murmured, and she jerked when she realised he'd been standing right behind her. "Give me your hand, please."

She turned around, her eyes rimmed red and round like saucers. He gently took her white hand, kissed it lightly, and before she knew it, they were gone from the kitchen. They were whizzing through time and space, Mary felt as if she were squeezed through the narrowest tube in the world, she wanted to gasp for breath, to reach out, she was suffocating, she couldn't breathe… And then it stopped. She would collapse onto the floor, but a pair of strong arms caught her, her diaphragm was spasming for breath and she felt as if she never were to breathe again.

"Breathe." She could hear a deep, male voice. "Breathe, Mary. It was just apparition. Breathe."

By the sheer will of her belly muscles, she pushed them inwards and outwards to make her body work again. She gasped for breath like a drowning person gasps for air, and rested her head against the man who caught her, leaning on him with her arms and chest for support. When she looked up, it was none other than her husband, Severus Snape, who was holding her. His dark eyes were watching her intently, his face unreadable.

"Thank you." She said, still watching him, and she didn't back up from the security his arms provided.

"Severus?" Said an old man's voice, and as she turned her head around sharply to see the newcomer, she saw Albus Dumbledore standing next to what looked like a very ornate, massive writing desk. Behind it, there was a large golden chair matching the table. Mary stood up, dazzled, and was wheeling on the spot to take in the beauty of what she soon understood to be the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts.

"Mary, nice to see you again." Professor Dumbledore extended his hand towards her warmly. "Sherbet Lemons?" He shook a small metal container.

"Good Lord, I love these!" Mary cried, seized the container, and took a handful of the candy. Severus cocked up an eyebrow.

Lunatics…

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Mary?" Asked Dumbledore warmly.

"To tell the truth, I am not so sure meself, Headmaster, sir." Mary stuttered, but Severus beckoned to the side with his hand and with a quiet "a word, Albus", he led the old man a few steps away.

"A minute, Mary dear, please, do have a chat with Fawkes in the meantime. He enjoys an occasional piece of juicy gossip." With his chin hidden beneath the silver beard, he indicated the red-feathered large bird perched near his writing desk.

"What a nice bird you are, Fawkes, yes you are, a really nice bird indeed," Mary approached the phoenix and, of course, oblivious of the bird's true nature, she began gently stroking his soft feathers. Fawkes closed his sparkly eyes and let himself be petted.

"You look a bit like a giant parrot, yes you do–" in a split second, a beak snapped at her fingers, "alright, alright, no parrot, no parrot, sorry." Marry blurted and chuckled, still stroking the bird's feathers.

Minutes passed. Still stroking Fawkes' head, Mary began chattering absent-mindedly: "Can you believe, Fawkes, that I have no idea what's happening here? Actually, I haven't had a clue what's going on or what I should do since I got locked up in Snape's house, which has already been – how long? – a month maybe? I honestly have no idea what to do, Fawkes," she sighed, "my family is either dead or very, far, far away, and I feel so alone, yes, I do, I feel alone, locked, sad, and miserable, and I kind of feel that if me husband was home more often, that that would take some of the pain away from me, because at least I'd have another living soul there with me, and could escape my own thoughts for a while sometimes, but at the same time, I feel ashamed, because he's the one who might have killed me son and husband, and I feel like I'm betraying them for even being around this man. What do you think, Fawkes? What do you think I should do?"

"He thinks you should give it more time." Albus Dumbledore said, walking slowly towards her from his library corner of his study where he'd been discussing matters with her husband. A soft smile was still lingering on the Headmaster's lips, however, his face looked far more solemn and worried. "Mary, Severus and I have agreed that you should stay a night in this beautiful castle, and I can show you the grounds and the school tomorrow, it is a Hogsmeade weekend, so there should be very few students here."

"Hogsmeade weekend, sir?"

"Oh, yes, there's a small wizarding village called Hogsmeade near here, and the students are sometimes allowed to visit and go shopping and have a butterbeer or two." Smiled Dumbledore.

"Butterbeer, sir?" Said Mary, more bewildered than ever.  
"No worries, my dear, I will explain later. Now, it's vital that you stay in your rooms, for should any student see you, Severus would get into big trouble, and as you've already witnessed the Dark Lord's unpredictable nature, you and I can only cringe at the thought of what Severus' punishment would be if he ever found out about this little trip of yours."

"I'm sorry, sir, why has S-Severus brought me here, sir? Where's he anyway?"

"Severus can see great deal of pain and suffering inside you, and brought you here to cheer you up, and perhaps," Dumbledore winked at her, "give you a new food for thought."

"He's a queer man, isn't he?" Mary frowned and Dumbledore laughed.

"Dear Mary, that's a severe understatement."

"Professor, may I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Is Severus a nice person, sir?"

"Why do you believe he would be?"

"Because – considering he's a Death Eater, sir – he's been very nice to me, sir. I think his master wouldn't be happy about the way Severus treats me, sir."

"And why would you think he wouldn't be a nice guy?"

"Because, sir," Mary's cheeks turned slightly pinkish, "you just don't join a gang of murderers for fun, sir. There must be dark intentions behind it."

"Severus has made a lot of mistakes in the past," sighed Dumbledore, "and this has been one of them."

"But he cannot leave the Dark Lord's ranks, can he, sir?"

"No."

Her brain was whirring like crazy. _Snape's still a Death Eater. But Dumbledore knows about it, and still allows him to teach in his school. What if he's his spy amongst the Dark Lord's ranks? That must be the only explanation, because Severus has far more liberty here than with the Dark Lord. And the confident party usually lets the leash go – and Dumbledore's not stupid._

"I'm confused, professor." Said Mary, and began stroking Fawkes' feathers again. "I don't know what to do. On one hand, I feel I should honor my dead husband in my thoughts and in my actions, but–"

"But?" Said Dumbledore, and smiled at her.

"But I have this – unstoppable feeling – that this was somehow… meant to be, sir, that I was meant to be where I am, because I feel I can do something good and useful, sir, I feel that I can help you overcome the Dark Lord – I feel that has been my purpose ever since my husband and my child fell dead to the ground, sir. And I am confused, because the more time I spend with Severus, the more I feel that I can help him – all of you – win this war, but the more I feel guilty towards my ex husband, sir."

"How did you know there was a war?" Dumbledore's features darkened.

"Pardon my French, sir, but you just don't go raiding Muggle homes if there wasn't a war going rampant at that moment, sir."

"Why not?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Because these raids become petty crimes in circumstances like these, that's the only way they can be happening at all, sir." Mary explained. "I just wish the guilt would go away, sir." She whispered. "I feel like a terrible, terrible person, sir."

"That's the case when we lost someone whom we deeply loved." Said Dumbledore softly and his omnipresent smile was gone.

"Has it ever happened to you, sir? Have you ever lost someone you loved?"

"More than one person, actually." He nodded.

"Could you tell me about it, sir?" Mary asked gently. "Please. It would help me a lot to… hear about it."

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Dumbledore asked, seating himself heavily into his throne-chair behind the desk. Mary jumped onto a much simpler chair opposite him and listened intently.


	5. Chapter 5

Mary awoke into the sunny Indian summer morning. The birds were chirping outside and her room was flooded with sunshine coming through a large paneled window. She stirred lazily, enjoying the comfort of the king-sized bed her body was sprawled on, but then jerked upright and searched frantically around for anything that could tell her where she was.

"Are you awake yet, my dear?" Came a voice from somewhere opposite her bed. Mary instinctively drew the covers up to her chin, although she could discern it was a female voice speaking, and she asked: "Who said that?"

"I did, my dear." The voice said again.

"Who's there?" Cried Mary, because as far as her point of view was concerned, there wasn't anyone there where she heard the voice coming from.

"Here, darling, on the picture." Said the voice and for the first time, Mary cast her eyes to the live-sized painting of a Victorian witch with silver hair, and then gasped. _The picture was moving._

"Dilys Derwent, darling, ex-Headmistress of Hogwarts." The witch courtseyed a little. _Right, Hogwarts._

"Honestly, you Muggles are rather cute, marvelling at everything magical." The witch gave her a wide smile, ruffled her voluminous skirts, and continued: "Now, I heard from the Potions Master you were a nurse, is that a Muggle equivalent to a Healer?"

"I-I have no idea what a Healer is, Ma'am." Peeped Mary, still staring at the picture, still clutching at her covers.

"Blimey, of course you don't, silly duckling." The witch clasped her hands together and gave her the widest smile of all. "Now, my darling, they are waiting for you at the Headmaster's office. You look rather young, how old are you, duckling?"

"Twenty-six." Said Mary, as she was dressing up into a black warm turtle neck dress which ended just above her knees and a pair of leather high boots. "But why am I even telling you anyway?"

"I think the dress calls for your hair up, darling." The witch offered her advice.

"Jaysus, Mary and Joseph…" Sighed Mary, fixing her hair into a long ponytail.

Once out of her guestroom, Mary had actually no idea where to go, should she turn left, or right? Zigzagging through the empty hallways, she was soon forced to conclude she was lost. As she leaned on one of the stone walls to rest, a nearby tabby cat caught her attention.

"Here, kitty, kitty, come here, kitty, kitty!" Luring the cat to come closer and closer, Mary was excited to see the living, purring animal soon in her arms, enjoying being stroked by her free hand as her other arm held the cat tightly pressed to her body.

"What a nice lil' kitty you are, kitty kitty kitty!" Cooed Mary animatedly, rubbing the cat behind its ears. Resuming a slow walk to where she hoped the Headmaster's office would surely be, Mary continued rubbing the cat's luxuriously soft fur.

"Good Lord, yer fur is so soft, you have to tell me what shampoo you're using, kitty – ouch!"

Hitting something black and tall, she let go off the cat, and as Mary looked up, her blood froze in her veins.

"P-Please, sir, forgive me, I wasn't– I didn't–"

"I was sent to investigate about your whereabouts." Said her husband sternly, and his gaze was cold and unforgiving.

"I really didn't mean to–"

"Besides, what do you think you are playing at, Minerva?"

"Uhm…" Mary blushed slightly. "Me name's Mary, sir."

"Zip it." Snapped her husband icily. As Mary looked at the poor cat, her jaw dropped. Because there wasn't any cat anymore. Where there used to be the gorgeous tabby feline stood a full grown woman in emerald green robes, an elegant silver brooch and a pointed hat. A half-smile, half-smirk lingered on her lips for a short while, before she turned to Severus.

"Don't you take that tone with me, Severus. Your wife was more than kind to me when she thought I was a cat." Minerva glanced at Mary and her eyes seemed a bit twinkly before she fixed Severus with a hard stare. "Besides, what kind of a man would let his confused, unsuspecting wife wander the castle unsupervised? You better be glad she didn't run into Peeves – or Filch. Do you have any idea what that incompetent man would have done with her? – I presume he's not familiar with your little secret. – No, of course you don't."

"How awfully Gryffindor of you, Minerva." Growled her husband dangerously, his eyes a deadly stare, and he suddenly appeared to grow in size as he advanced towards the older witch, who, luckily, didn't move an inch. Instead, she turned to the black haired, short woman by her side: "Mary, dear, if you would follow me, please."

"I'm really sorry, sir." Said Mary sheepishly, cowering slightly, because her husband furious glare could only be interpreted in the worst possible way.

"Noted." He snarled through gritted teeth. Scooting after the Deputy Headmistress, Mary left him standing there, his stare deadly, his jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists.

"I am really sorry, Madam, I shouldn't have… treated you… like a cat…" There were hardly any words that Mary could use to describe her embarassment as she remembered how tightly she held the witch-cat in her arms.

"Don't worry about it, my dear, it was rather a joke on my part," chuckled Minerva, as she marched through the corridors, "ever since Albus told me of your presence, I couldn't wait to pull that prank on you."

"Just out of curiosity, how long were you planning to stay that way?" Mary giggled.

Minerva glanced a roguish glance at her: "That would depend on the situation."

Both women burst out laughing.

"I was originally sent by Albus to bring you," Minerva explained, "but as I found you lost in the castle, I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry."

"No harm done." Mary assured her, her lips curled up in a rather enticing smile.

"Salted Caramel." Said Minerva suddenly.

"No, thanks – oh!" Mary jumped up as a formerly immobile statue started to move in front of them, creating a moving staircase.

"After you." The older woman beckoned with her hand.

"Mary, how good to see you!" Albus exclaimed and spreading out his arms, he welcomed the young woman cordially into his office. Fawkes was still perched by his writing desk, and pretty much was the same as Mary remembered it from the previous evening.

"Excuse me, sir, what's a Gry-Gryffindor?" Mary asked. Minerva snorted in supressed laughter behind her back.

"Oh, I see." Dumbledore nodded, sudden realization dawning on him. "Severus wasn't too impressed with your performance, Minerva?" Bending closer to Mary, he mumbled: "I personally find it very amusing when she does that, and it always works, every time – you should see the expression on people's faces sometimes…" Mary giggled.

"Gryffindor is one of the four houses at this school – each student gets sorted into one as they arrive into the school for the first time." Dumbledore explained and then beckoned with his hand: "Minerva here is the Head of the House of Gryffindor. Each of the houses have a certain character features that are typical for their members."

"Indeed," Minerva nodded, "for Gryffindor, it's courage, bravery, and chivalry. Then there's Slytherin, which is well-known for its value for ambition and cunning. Then we have Ravenclaw, a house for all those who value learning, knowledge and imagination, and last but not least, Hufflepuff, who has a reputation for being very loyal and friendly."

Why do I have a feeling I know in which house my husband would be?

"As you might have guessed, Severus is the Head of the Slytherin house. Voldemort himself is a Slytherin, as are those who follow him – mostly, that is."

So that's one big man as a head of a big house which supports another big man.

"Which house would I be in, sir, if ever I–" Mary didn't know how to finish her sentence, but Dumbledore was already holding an old, tattered hat in his hands.

"The Sorting Hat could give you an answer, if you cared that much to know." The wizard smiled. Very tentatively, Mary placed it on her head.

"I don't think you have any magical powers in you, my dear." Said a voice into her ear.  
"I know," Mary acknowledged, blushing, "but I would still care to know where in this society I would belong."

"Let me see… You have a lot of strength in you, I can see that immediately… You have a big heart, and you would fight for anyone and everybody who's dear to you… I think you would be a perfect example of a Gryffindor – if you ever had any magic in you, that is."

"What a perfect pairing." With even a wider smile than before, Dumbledore took the hat from her head, and as she glanced at Minerva, she could see that she was grinning, too.  
"Why, what's wrong?" Mary asked.

"You see, my dear, the four houses of Hogwarts are named after the four wizards who founded the school, and Slytherin and Gryffindor were perhaps the greatest rivals you could imagine, and even now, the two houses are very competitive and hostile towards each other."

"Is it the reason why Se- why my husband treats me in such horrid manner, sir?" Asked Mary with a sad tone in her voice, her shoulders drooped.

"Severus obviously doesn't know you would be sorted as a Gryffindor, my dear." Dumbledore said with a heavy sigh, while Minerva frowned. "He treats you the way he does because he has to."

"I don't understand."

"Voldemort married you to Severus because he wanted to punish him for saving your life–"

"He saved my life?!"

"Indeed," said Dumbledore softly, "Voldemort married you to Severus because he wanted to destroy him. He can see now that his plan didn't work, and from time to time, he probes his mind to find out whether he treats you as he should – as Voldemort and his Death Eaters think you deserve to be treated. So far, he has been satisfied, but that's only because Severus manages to keep his face straight and you out of his way."

"I see," Mary fidgeted with the hem of her dress nervously, "so there's no chance for me ever to escape, or for my husband to ever treat me better than with snarls and scorns." She buried her face in her hands. "Good Lord, what am I to do? I would rather not live at all than to live like this!"

"Now, now, Mary, don't you ever say these things again." Dumbledore threw her a dark glance, then extended his arm and taking her by her shoulders, he guided her towards a shallow stone bowl sitting on his table: "But there might be something that could help you… understand. After you." He beckoned, and after disappearing into the Pensieve, Minerva grumbled: "And he never shows me what he has in there!"

When they finally emerged from the Pensieve, Mary's head was spinning and throbbing.

"Wow. Just… wow." She said, pressing her fingers to her temples.

"Can I get you something, Mary?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"No, I'm sorry, I would like to get some fresh air, if you wouldn't mind." Mary said weakly.

"Of course." Dumbledore was holding some wizarding robes, and tapping lightly on them with his wand, he handed them to Mary: "They have the Disillusionment charm on them, no one will be able to see you."

Mary threw the Gryffindor robes around her shoulders and with a soft 'thank you' walked out of the office.

Where she was going she didn't know. She just knew she needed to be alone and outside, to sort out her thoughts and to look at the stars. How long was it since she was last outside? She couldn't remember. She took off her shoes and traipsed along the lake in the wet autumn grass, she threw rocks absent mindedly into the lake, she lay in the grass staring at the stars as if they were her best friends, she listened to the wind humming in the nearby forest leaves. And once for a long, long time, she felt truly happy.

And as she was lying on the ground and counting stars, she dozed off.

She might be sleeping for half-an-hour, or for three hours – she didn't know. All she knew was that a warm touch of a hand woke her frozen body up. As she jerked upright, she could see the figure of her husband sitting quietly on the ground beside her, his warm hand gently touching her shoulder.

She rubbed at her eyes and shuddered – suddenly, she was very, very cold.

"I'm sorry, sir, I must have fallen asleep here – I assure you I wasn't going to run away." She said, her voice a bit bitter. She was already reconciled to her fate of a beaten dog, forever tied to a leash.

"I know you weren't going to run away." He said softly. She stared at him in disbelief: His voice was weary, tired – almost weak.

"I was hoping you would care to eat your dinner with me." He said, and there was a tone of genuine question in his voice. He wasn't ordering her to eat with him – it was almost as if he were sure she would refuse him.

"Are you asking me out?" She smirked, but her voice was ringing with laughter.

"No, I'm asking you _in_." He corrected her, a hint of a smile apparent in his voice. It was too dark for her to tell if he was smiling or not. "Or you'll freeze to death."

"As if you'd care!" She exclaimed, however, something in the way she said it suggested she didn't mean it that way.

"What do you know about my cares?" He asked, and helped her on her feet.

"You're not actually suggesting you would?!" Mary cried.

"I didn't say such a thing." Said Snape, and taking her by her hand, he guided her towards the castle.

"But you didn't say the opposite either." She dared to have a dig.

"Think of it what you will." Was all he said, and as they walked into the Entrance Hall, she could see his lips were twitched into an actual half-smile.

"How did you find me? I thought Professor Dumbledore placed a Disillusionment charm on me."

He cocked up an eyebrow and said: "He did."

"Then how did you find me?"

As they were walking through the corridors, her husband showed her an outstretched right hand. There on the ring finger sat a gold ring, similar to the one she was forced to wear, only thicker.

"You're not actually telling me you're wearing it?!"

"Think of it what you will." Was all he said again, and leading her deeper and deeper into the dungeons of the castle, the torches on the walls lighted as they passed by.

"Just wait till you see me without the charm on me, that'll wipe that smug smirk off yer face." Mary said with a wicked glee apparent in her voice.

"I assure you that regardless of whether you're dressed or naked, there's nothing I haven't seen before on a woman." He smirked and opening the doors of his private chambers, he led her in. Mary snorted in laughter.

"Don't get your hopes too high, why the hell would I be naked?!" She burst out laughing.

"Let's see then." He smiled and flicked his wand. The charm was gone. His soft smile was immediately gone, too. He leaned on the doorframe, closed his eyes and groaned as if he were in pain.

"Wow, I mean, I cannot even think what you would do if I actually were naked–"

"I'm going to blow Minerva's ass off." He swore and marched to the fire to light it. "for what she did with you."

"It wasn't Minerva – although I'd love to see you trying to blow her ass off – the hat told me I would be in Gryffindor." Mary said with a cheeky glee.

He groaned again, more desperately: "Please, stop. Why do you have to do this to me?! First, Minerva yells at me for two hours about me being an asshole, and then you stab me in my back."

"Alright, I'm going to take them off." Mary grumbled good naturedly and threw the Gryffindor robes on his luxuriously large bed.

"Happy now?" She showed him her plain black dress.

"Much better, although I would be even happier if you set them on fire." He smirked.

"You wish." Mary smirked. "I'm keeping them, by all means."

"Wine?" He offered her a glass, holding another one for himself. She gratefully accepted. She had a few sips, then, a cheeky smile spread across her lips.

"What are you sniggering at?" He asked with mild annoyance.

"Will you show me yourself turning into a bat?" She giggled.

"What – no!" He barked. "Where did you get such an idiotic idea?!"

"I thought that as Minerva turns into a cat–"

"Not every wizard can turn into an animal."

"So you can't?"

"I most certainly wouldn't even try." He assured her, and poured himself another glass.

"I wonder what animal would I be if I could do it." Mary mused.

"I can most certainly show you if you won't stop being annoying." He grumbled and sipped more of his wine.

Mary sighed: "I just wish I knew more about the wizarding world. People are just… telling me stuff, and I always feel like the stupidest being on earth for not knowing what they're talking about."

"Yes, about that," he began and rose from his comfortable chair by the fire, similar to the one in which she was seated: "I have something I'd like to give you."

As he spoke, a stack of books floated into the room – presumably from his office.

"These are first-year schoolbooks every child comes to Hogwarts with." He said. "I'd like you to find similar pleasure to what I felt while reading them as a child."

"I'd love to read them." She blushed and watched the books land themselves by her chair. "Are these yours?"

"Yes." He nodded. "And before that, they were my mother's."

"Thank you. That's very generous of you." She said, blushing, not knowing what to say.

"Don't mention it." He waved his hand dismissively.

"I… I've been thinking a lot about my life lately when I was outside." She said sheepishly.

"And what did you conclude?" He asked.

"Are you always going to treat me like a piece of dirt?" She asked him, and the honesty in her voice was enough to make her sound confrontational. She expected him to storm at her, to insult her, to scorn her, to chide her. But none of that happened. Instead, he let out a heavy sigh and rubbed the root of his prominent nose with his long fingers.

"I have no idea how I will or won't treat you, Mary." He said wearily. "You have to understand that I'm tiptoeing on a tightrope here. You're a clever woman, plus I have come to understand that Dumbledore has breached his credibility with you behind my back, so you must understand what I'm referring to."

She nodded curtly.

_He would like to treat me nicely, but obviously, he cannot, because his mind is regularly searched._

And then, she made one of the hardest decisions she ever had to make in her life.

"Severus." She said huskily, her eyes full of an emotion he couldn't understand. She could see him jerk and tense at the sound of his name on her lips. Slowly, his dark mysterious eyes met hers.

"Please…" She knelt down between his spread legs and from underneath her long lashes, her cat eyes looked daring and solemn: "I want you to erase my memory."


End file.
